


December 19, 1946

by Dragonsquill (dragonsquill)



Series: Prompts and AUs [16]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Human AU, M/M, World War 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 05:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13093260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonsquill/pseuds/Dragonsquill
Summary: This beautiful universe belongs to Linane, and you will need to know the incredible journey of the boys through WWII and beyond for this story to make much sense.  Trust me,Between the Boardsis a beautiful story.Also, this story deals with a Gentile who wants to learn about Jewish beliefs.  That happens to also be what I am (though I'm much the same with Christian beliefs, having been raised in a Christian church that doesn't observe any religious holidays), so Fili and I both hope we don't offend anyone when we get things wrong.    Finally, I have used the English transliteration since the story is written in that language.





	December 19, 1946

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Between the Boards](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784042) by [Linane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linane/pseuds/Linane). 



> This beautiful universe belongs to Linane, and you will need to know the incredible journey of the boys through WWII and beyond for this story to make much sense. Trust me, _Between the Boards_ is a beautiful story.
> 
> Also, this story deals with a Gentile who wants to learn about Jewish beliefs. That happens to also be what I am (though I'm much the same with Christian beliefs, having been raised in a Christian church that doesn't observe any religious holidays), so Fili and I both hope we don't offend anyone when we get things wrong. Finally, I have used the English transliteration since the story is written in that language.

Despite knowing Kíli since they were small, and despite growing up constantly underfoot in Kíli’s family’s shop, Fíli knew almost nothing about Jewish holidays and observances. 

He knew, from childhood, that Passover was extremely important and that it had something to do with the timing of his own family’s celebration of Easter. He recognized a few of the traditional songs, sung softly by Kíli’s mother and sister as they gently folded egg whites into the matzo shalet or filled hungry bellies with piping hot noodle soup and berches. But he was never invited for any of their holidays, nor did he invite Kíli to celebrate the various saints’ days. It felt disrespectful, somehow, to intrude on the very thing that made Kíli so different, made his family so special and warm, or to imply that Fíli’s own holidays were somehow more important. 

He thought of the Jewish celebrations occasionally when Kíli was in hiding, wishing he could bring some sense of history back to his friend as Kíli slowly wasted away in the cupboard. But it was so dangerous just to whisper to each other; certainly, it would have been suicidal to actually murmur words of Jewish origins. Some things he could claim he spoke of to Kíli the cat, but not the traditions of _Pesach_ or _Shavuot_. 

Then, of course, they were running, hungry and frightened and determined, and there was no time to talk of tradition and loss. 

Which was why, when tiny Mrs. Liljegren brought in her menorah for repair, Fíli had to ask when she needed it. 

“For Chanukah,” she told him, serious as always. Laughter was hard to find in these first years after the world had attempted to destroy itself.

“Ah, yes,” Fíli answered, knowing at least that much, “but which day is it?” He had a dim recollection that Chanukah covered several nights and took place some time before the Christ’s Mass, but nothing more. 

She tsked at him, though why she should assume a goyim would know the calendar he hadn’t a clue. “It must be completed by the 18th,” she said archly, “so we can light the _shamash_ on the night of the 19th.”

She brought it on the 2nd. He assured her he could have it finished with time to spare, and he did. The repair was a simple one, and he braved the snow as he often did to deliver it rather than making her return. It was after the delivery that he faced a new dilemma:

Fíli decided to make a menorah, for Kíli.

He did wonder if he should make one – there were rules, he knew, to keeping kosher, though Kíli’s family had not always followed them. He knew there were certain rights and images in the Roman church that could only be completed by priests; he didn’t want to dishonor the celebration by giving Kíli a gift that shouldn’t have been made by non-Jewish hands. But even here, in Sweden, fear of Kíli being discovered as a Jew lingered, and only in part because it would make their story of being brothers more complicated. Sweden had protected Jews from Denmark and Norway during the war, but Fíli knew better than most that politics were fickle and dangerous.

No.

He would not seek out anyone for advice, even if he could in this weather. Kili would forgive him if he broke a taboo. 

Fíli set to work with quiet determination, first studying Mrs. Liljegren’s, making notes and sketches so that he could replicate the design. It was simple enough, if more delicate than his usual work. The materials were primarily scraps, but he tried to create something beautiful, something worthy of all that Kíli had lost, and of what they were slowly gaining together in their cabin on the island. 

He tried very hard indeed not to mutter blasphemies and curses when he made mistakes, as well. It seemed the proper thing to do.

Thursday the 19th was bright and cold, the world blinding white but with no fresh snow falling. At the end of his day at the forge, Fíli shined his handmade gift until it gleamed and tucked it, well wrapped in cloth and in the company of nine slim candles, into his leather satchel. Then he wrapped up in all his own layers and made his way home, tying the satchel into place when he stepped carefully across the ice slide he and Kili had smoothed to their home when the water froze.

His heart beat double time as he kicked aside snow and opened the door, stepping from biting cold into delightful warmth. Kíli had the fire roaring, and he smelled nuts roasting with a dash of sugar – a decadent treat indeed!

“Fíli!” And there, there was the love of his life, dark eyes and broad smile and warm hands tugging off Fíli’s coat as Kíli ushered him beside the stove. Hot tea appeared as if by magic, and Fíli wrapped cool fingers around it and sipped, letting the heat spread from the inside out. 

“What in the world have you got in here?” Kíli asked cheerfully as he lugged Fíli’s bag to hang it on the peg. “A hubcap?” 

Kíli’s work with Bofur had perhaps enhanced his vocabulary and opened a recent fascination with all things automechanic. 

Fíli smiled at him. “It’s a gift, actually,” he said with careful nonchalance. He hoped this would make Kíli happy but it could just as easily be a reminder of….well. Of a lifetime, snatched from him. Of years in the dark, and his missing family and-

“A gift?” Kíli grinned at him, tugging the bag into his arms. “For me?”

“For…” Fíli’s voice faltered the barest moment, then strengthened. “For both of us.”

“Ohhhh! Interesting!” Kíli sat beside Fíli, practically radiating warmth that Fíli’s body greedily stole and luxuriated in. “Can I open it now?”

Fíli nodded, too nervous to speak, and hid like a coward behind his mug as Kíli dug into the bag and pulled out first one candle, and then another, and then-

“Oh.”

The sound was…Fíli couldn’t interpret it. Good? Bad?

“Kíli?”

With careful fingers, Fíli’s love pulled away the soft cloths protecting the menorah and set it on their solid kitchen table. It glowed in the light of the stove and the lantern, the light from their short day already gone.

“I…if I wasn’t meant to make it, I’m sorry, I didn’t have anyone to ask and…I thought…you could teach me…but if you’d rather not-” Kíli’s silence momentarily terrified Fíli, flooding him with uncomfortable memories of the months..the years…when Kíli was not free to speak.

Kíli reached out and rested his hand on top of Fíli’s. 

Fíli’s voice caught, and fell silent.

Kíli traced his fingertips along the curves, his eyes suddenly very bright. 

His voice, when he spoke, was low and soft. “It’s beautiful,” he said, almost reverently. He lifted those eyes to meet Fíli’s. “I love it.” He smiled, wavering but sincere. “I love you.”

Fíli reached for him and Kíli all but fell into his arms, pressing kisses to Fíli’s cheek, his jaw, his chin, his lips. “I love you,” Kíli said, and again, “I love you.”

Fíli couldn’t help a laugh at the bubble of relief in his chest. “I love you, too,” he said, because he could, could luxuriate in the words and the feelings. “It’s all right I made it?”

Kíli laughed wetly. “I don’t know!” he confessed. “But I don’t care. It’s ours. Yours and mine.” He beamed at Fíli and pressed their foreheads together. “Our life, Fíli.”

“Ours,” Fíli agreed, breath stolen by Kíli’s words. “You’ll…teach me?”

“What I remember,” Kíli said, “what I know. I’ll teach you.” He kissed Fíli again, fond and loving. “We’ll find a way to fill in the blanks.”

He didn’t pull away, but instead tugged his chair as close as possible and curled in Fíli’s arms as his clever fingers reached for the first candle. “This,” he said, his voice brightening, “is called the _shamash_ and it is used to light the other candles.”

Fíli wrapped his arms around Kíli as his friend reached out and lit the first candle in the dancing light of the stove, luxuriating in the warmth and love filling their little cottage.


End file.
